


Like Grey Skies

by Elfgrunge



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Established Relationship, HugJonSims2k19, M/M, Set somewhere post season 4 probably, Slow Dancing, what's a timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-02-18 13:00:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18700111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elfgrunge/pseuds/Elfgrunge
Summary: ‘Martin I appreciate it but I… have absolutely no idea how to dance.’‘Oh, good, neither do I. Shall we?’Done for #HugJonSims2k19





	Like Grey Skies

Jon stood up slowly, relaxing into a stretch, back arched and running a hand through his uncombed hair. He would be the first to admit he looked more on the mess side of ‘kind of a mess’ right then, but three hours of sleep do that to you, especially followed by sitting at the same desk for almost ten hours straight.

‘Are you alright?’ Martin said, head appearing through the door to Jon’s office. His tone was light, but he had that look of subtle worry that Jon had learnt meant he was about to be fretted upon. 

Jon tried, and failed, to make himself look somewhat more presentable before replying, with incredibly false nonchalance, ‘Yes, of course.’ 

‘Really? Because I’m pretty sure I just heard your spine crack from across the archives. How long have you been in here?’ 

Jon winced, face flushing. Well, as much as it could. He wasn’t sure his blood did that much circulating anymore. Perks of being formerly dead. ‘A.. While. And before you start, I  _ did  _ go and get lunch in the staff room, had a whole two minutes conversation with Melanie and everything, and she didn’t even try to stab me once.’

Martin sighed, trying his hardest not to just put his head in his hands. ‘That’s not… That doesn’t count, okay? You need to get out, or at least  _ up _ . No point of being back from a coma if you just sit at a desk all day. C’mon, I have… an idea,’ he said, disappearing from the door frame and back into the archives. 

Jon reluctantly followed, slowed by the fact that he had to remind his legs how to move again. Martin was waiting, standing in the open space between the desks and where the shelving began. He was bowed, one arm extended out, hand offered. ‘Jonathan Sims, can I have this dance?’ His tone was humorous, light, something far too good than should be in the institute’s oppressive walls and Jon was so thankful. But.

‘Martin I appreciate it but I… have absolutely no idea how to dance.’

‘Oh, good, neither do I. Shall we?’ 

Jon actually laughed at that, which was probably a good sign that his sense of humour wasn’t entirely dead. ‘Okay then.’ He gently placed one hand on Martin’s shoulder, and another at his waist. 

Jon had never been good with the whole ‘physical contact’ thing, even with Georgie (Though he would admit she gave great hugs). But a few years of even handshakes being reasons for risk had reminded him what he was missing. 

He and Martin had only been… Officially? Semi-Officially? God were they even  _ a thing  _ at all or had Jon horribly misread the situation? For a few weeks, but this was... Nice. This was good. 

‘I probably should have thought to put some music on or something,’ Martin mumbled, breath warm on Jon’s face as he pressed their foreheads close, stooping down a little to do so. Yeah, probably together. His heart did something funny at that clarification. 

A clatter, as a tape recorder appeared on the desk nearest to them (Claimed by Basira? He distantly thought). A click, as it began to reel, and soft piano drifted through the archives.

‘Is that-’ Martin stifled a laugh, ‘-Is that  _ ‘Claire De Lune’ _ ?’ 

‘I believe so,’ Jon grimaced. Their patron, (Or just his patron? Whichever it was at the moment) really knew when to intervene. If only it was as invested in his actual life as his love life, but oh well. At least it was nice.

Martin’s hands came to rest on his back, tentatively, like he wasn’t sure that was something he was allowed to do. Jon gently pressed the side of his face into Martin’s shoulder, slowly swaying to the melody that still spooled away. 

‘Thank you,’ he mumbled, words almost lost to the soft wool of Martin’s favourite jumper. 

‘For what?’ Martin asked, one hand moving up to gently stroke Jon’s hair.

‘Everything. Being so wonderful. Taking care of me.’ Then, slowly, quieter, ‘It’s more than I deserve.’ 

Martin’s hand moved again, slower, fingers hooking under Jon’s chin and prying his face up to meet his own eyes. ‘Never think that. Please. You deserve so much more than…’ his other hand moved to gesture around the archives, before finding its way back again, ‘all of this. But it’s what we have,’ a soft shrug, ‘so I say we make the best of it.’ 

Jon’s hand slowly moved from where it had been resting on Martin’s shoulder, to cupping the back of his head, guiding it down ‘til Jon could ghost his lips against his forehead. 

He kept his eyes down, unsure if he was being too forward. ‘Then for this. Thank you for this.’

Martin hummed softly at that. ‘Well, it wasn’t entirely without selfish intent. This is rather nice.’

Jon tried not to laugh directly into his face. ‘Yes, I suppose so.’ Then, eyes rolling, feigning mock-strife, ‘Oh how you use me.’ 

They both ended up laughing at that. 

Eventually Martin adjusted his position, standing back at full height. ‘Not that I didn’t appreciate that, uh,  _ side tracking _ , but this was supposed to be about making sure you don’t go into muscle atrophy. Do you think you can deign to attempt any actual dancing?’ 

Jon snorted, ‘Yes, all right then, if I must,’ and tacked on at the end ‘.. for you.’ 

It was terrible, of course, the two moving awkwardly, out of sync with the still continuing music. Jon thought it was absolutely perfect, and, if he’d been asked, Martin would be inclined to agree.

Then something  _ twinged _ , right at the back of his brain. Something, barely a droplet, sneaking past the door he tried to hold so resolutely shut. This time, though, he found he didn’t really mind. He was entitled to something nice, every once in a while, he supposed.

Martin seemed startled, when Jon gently twirled him, but he let himself fall into the dip that came after.

One eyebrow raised, ‘I thought you didn’t dance?’ 

‘Well.. Spooky Knowledge Powers seem to have their advantages sometimes.’ 

Martin hauled himself back to standing, arms clasped around Jon’s shoulders, until he could pull him into a tight embrace. ‘I’m starting to think it’s  _ too _ invested in us.’ 

‘Maybe. But, frankly, I can’t really bring myself to care.’

Martin just kept holding him.

**Author's Note:**

> Melanie, holding a large popcorn: Should I tell them I've been here the whole time or 
> 
> You can find me on tumblr as elfgrunge, and my podcast sideblog radiosandrecordings


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